The Price of Venison
by Millennium Slinky
Summary: Okay, weird title. The first meeting of Matthew and Guy. You know the story. You've just never seen it this way before.
1. Dinner

**~ : : The Price of Venison : : ~**

The first meeting of Matthew, a thief, and Guy, a Sacaean far from home.  (Couldn't resist.  Such an intriguing story.)

Don't own Fire Emblem, don't own Matthew or Guy.  (Wish I did.)

* * * * *

He fell to his knees just past the edge of the forest.  He could feel grass tickling his face, telling him that he'd broken out onto an unfamiliar plain.  He could barely see his own hands in front of him, planted in the dirt, vision obscured by strands of hair and hazy from hunger.

It would be easy, wouldn't it?  Just to...stop.  Lie down and go to sleep for the last time, face buried in the sweet smell of the plains so like home.  But for the pain in ever fiber of his being, the ache in his stomach, he would have been content.  But then...but then he noticed something...something else.

That smell...so unfamiliar...yet so _welcome_...

Smoke...something was...burning...

Not burning...not...burning...but..._cooking_.

... Meat.  Yes, that was what it was called.  He'd almost forgotten what it tasted like.  Suddenly the memories came rushing back, filling his mind with blessed visions of steaming venison...he'd only known hunger for the past ten days...please, gods...let him live a little longer...just to taste it...once again...

He breathed in deeply.  He could feel it upon his tongue.  Meat.  _Food_.  Please...just a few more steps...staggering steps...

* * * * *

Matthew hummed a tune he couldn't remember the name of and carefully turned the spit stuck through an almost-done slab of venison.  Life was good.  Very good.  He sighed, leaning back against the trunk of the tree that overshadowed his improvised camp, watching the sun slip beyond the edge of the seemingly endless plains.  No wars, no messing in politics.  Now it was just Matthew and a tree and his soon-to-be dinner - just him and his own little world.

Suddenly there was a loud rustle, somewhere to the left of the tree, nearer to the fringe of the forest.  Matthew silently rose from his reclining position and quickly swung himself up into the tree, drawing his sword, waiting for the cause of the noise to appear.

His keen eyes picked out a human form stumbling through the tall grass, strangely thin and clad in rags too faded to be any recognizable color.  A...boy?  Matthew leaned down and stared hard.  To judge by his filthy but obviously green hair and equally dirty facial features, he was a Sacaean, but what proud child of Sacae would ever be so far from their native land and willing to appear so utterly defenseless before another human being?

The boy swayed and finally lost his footing altogether, crumpling into a small heap.  "So close..." Matthew heard him whisper, voice hoarse from disuse.  "I can't...I can't..."  He moaned softly, turning his head back towards the fire.  His eyes were dark and despairing behind the matted green hair.  "So...hungry..."  It was at that point that Matthew smelled a whiff of char.  Dammit.  His dinner was burning!

He dropped down out of the tree, landing on his feet.  "Excuse me," he said with mock politeness, then scooped up some loose soil from the ground and smothered the fire.  Once his meal was safe, he turned back to the boy.  "So.  You were about to steal my venison, weren't you?"

Another moan.  "Can't..."

"Can't what?" Matthew said impatiently.  "Who are you?  Where are you from?  Why shouldn't I kill you?"

"I'm...hungry...please...please..."  The boy buried his face in his arms, hiding his dark eyes.  "Just a little..."

Matthew sighed.  Another sob story.  He knelt next to his unwanted guest and carefully brushed his matted hair away from his face. "Just hungry, huh?"

The dark eyes gravitated towards the steaming slab of meat.  His face, underneath the dirt, seemed almost hopeful.  "I haven't...eaten...for ten..."

Ten days?  Matthew let out a whistle.  "Well!  That's why you're so thin!"  He wrinkled his nose.  "Doesn't explain the filth, though."

"Please...I'll give you everything I have..."  Despair again.  But then...Sacaeans didn't lie.  Maybe sharing for once would have beneficial results sometime in the future.  Ooh, he felt evil today.

"All right, then!" the thief said, eyes glinting.  "Everything you have."  He pulled his knife out of the folds of his cloak.  "But you get the burnt parts."

* * * * *

He felt warm...full...safe.

Guy wrapped the stranger's thick brown cloak tighter around his shoulders, closing his eyes and breathing in the soothing, earthy smell of the night.  He was curled comfortably in a curve of the tree's roots, exhausted but no longer aching for food.  His savior, a man only a few years older than himself, was lying on his back in the branches above.  Guy didn't know if he was asleep or awake, or possibly planning to kill the person who'd eaten half of his venison, but found he didn't really care.

At least he could die with a full stomach.

* * * * *

Matthew hummed a lullaby under his breath, folding his arms behind his head.  He had never before imagined the possibilities of having a Sacaean in his debt.  "Everything I have," he repeated softly, grinning.

Life was good.

* * [End] * *

...so?  Like it?  Hate it?  Please tell me (and your reasons too - AKA if you want to flame me, you have to be intelligent about it)!  Should I leave this as a one-shot or continue?  *jumps up and down*  I await your comments!


	2. Breakfast

**~ : : The Price of Venison : : ~**

Don't own Fire Emblem, Matthew, Guy, etc.  Finally learned that Guy, like Rath, is of the Kutolah tribe.  Quite a lot of people wanted me to continue - thank you all, the number of reviews shocked me - and I happened to be back in school and bored out of my socks, so I did.

Apologies: Matt's cloak is red, not brown.  *whacks self with Random Frying Pan*  @.@  Here's the next installment!

* * * * *

The next morning he was still alive.

He woke to the sound of dead leaves crunching underfoot - the man from yesterday yanked the red cloak off of him and brought it up to his own nose, sniffing experimentally.  A grimace crossed his face.  "Up with you!  There's a stream further along the edge of the trees you can wash in.  I mean, not to be ruder than I already am or anything, but you _do_ smell."

Guy nodded wordlessly and pushed himself up, then nearly fell over again when he realized he actually had the strength to stand.  "Thank you."

The man raised an eyebrow.  "You're welcome.  I'm Matthew.  You are...?"

"Guy.  Guy of the Kutolah."

Matthew scanned him up and down, then seemed to notice something for the first time.  "You carry a sword?!?" he said incredulously.  "But you look so young!"

Guy drew himself up haughtily, not that it made him any taller.  "I'm seventeen summers.  I know not how it is in Lycia, but I _have_ been studying swordsmanship since I was a child.  _And_ I'm going to become the greatest swordsman in all of Sacae."

"Well, no need to get all offended!  You don't _look_ seventeen," Matthew muttered.  "Now go wash.  Here."  He tossed something soft at Guy.  The Sacaean caught it out of reflex - a tunic and a pair of breeches.  "And after, I've got something I'd like you to sign."

* * * * *

Matthew watched Guy disappear into the trees.  Chuckling to himself, he re-read the paper he'd written out prior to waking his guest.

_In exchange for four pieces of meat and thus my life, I admit to being indebted to Matthew of Ostia, and hereby vow to return the favor four times over._

All he had to do was get the Sacaean to sign it - which Guy would, having already offered up everything he had.  Those people were too easy to take advantage of, with their obscure codes of honor and righteousness.

Bwah.

Well, it would work unless Guy didn't know how to write.  Heh.  That would be ironic, to say the least.

Matthew made a mental note that Guy also owed him for the clothes.  And if he stayed, it would be breakfast too.  The thief only had a loaf of extremely stale bread, but it was still food.  He rummaged in his cluttered bag and eventually found it, wrinkled his nose distastefully, and set about hacking it to pieces with his knife.

Guy's return was heralded by the snapping of a dead twig and more crunching.  Matthew swiveled his head around to take a look - funny how much a difference cleanliness could make.  Guy's nose and cheeks were slightly pink from too much scrubbing, but that face would obviously in the future turn him into a girl magnet.  Matthew had been right about the color of his hair - though darkened from the wash and dripping water, it was still an obvious shade of green.  The tunic was slightly too big on such a narrow frame, and the breeches too long, but at least he wasn't garbed in rags anymore.

The Sacaean shifted nervously under his gaze.  Cutting the silence, he suddenly brought himself to say, "How far is it to Pherae from here?"

"Leaving so soon?" the thief shot back.

"I...I don't want to bother you any more than I must."  Guy's eyes were pulled inexorably towards the loaf of bread that Matthew still held in his hands.  "You saved my life.  I am in your debt."

"Speaking of debt...can you write?" Matthew said from around a mouthful of bread.

Guy looked at him as if he were crazy.  "Of course."

"Well..."  Matthew held out a quill and the oathpaper.  "Can you sign that, then?"  The Sacaean's dark eyes scanned the paper.  At his skeptical expression, Matthew shrugged and made as if to take it back.  "It's only fair."  His eyes glinted craftily.  "Plus...you can have breakfast if you do."

Guy looked from Matthew to the bread and back again.  "Oh, fine."  He grabbed the quill and parchment, hastily scribbling his name and tribe.  "There."

Matthew folded the paper into quarters without waiting for the ink to dry and stuffed it back into some deep fold of his cloak.  "You can have two pieces, but no more.  I'm saving the rest for the road."

Guy paused, bread halfway to his mouth.  "Where are you going?"

Matthew stretched, cracking the vertebrae of his back.  "Back to Ostia by way of Caelin.  Pherae's in the opposite direction.  It'll take a few weeks for you to get there, though."

The youth frowned, hand sliding to the hilt of his sword.  "Aren't there spies in Ostia _everywhere_ these days?"

"Yup."  Matthew tucked the remainder of the loaf back into his sack and stood up, swinging it over one shoulder.  "Caelin's main city is just across the plains," he said, pointing.  "Care to join me?"

* * [End] * * 


	3. Lunch?

**~ : : The Price of Venison : : ~**

Don't own Fire Emblem, Matthew, Guy, or the world in which this ficcus takes place.  *realizes she is gravitating back towards the angst category in this chapter*  I sowwy!!  ^^;;  And am I the only one in the world who thinks Lucius is really a girl in disguise ? (I joke not!  He has a suspiciously feminine figure!)

* * * * *

They continued across the plain for nearly two hours, Matthew in the lead.  Guy was beginning to feel the strain already - a combination of Matthew's fast pace and his already poor health.  He'd survived ten days with no food whatsoever, he reminded himself, pushing his exhaustion to the back of his mind and concentrating on the way the sack was swinging back and forth against Matthew's arm.

When Matthew finally stopped and squinted into the distance, Guy took the chance to catch up with him, trying to refrain from panting.  "How...much farther?"

"Less than another hour, maybe."  Matthew shrugged and turned back to look at Guy.  "But first - lunch."

Suddenly he burst out laughing.

"What?" Guy said, puzzled.

"Y...your face just then," Matthew chortled.  He was clutching his ribs, shoulders shaking.  Guy just stood there, feeling extremely stupid.  Matthew took another look at the Sacaean and snorted.  His new companion, now mildly annoyed, did his best to wait patiently while Matthew's laughing fit died down.

"Well?"

Matthew coughed into his red cloak.  "See, you were like this..."  He turned the corners of his mouth down and stared stonily at Guy.  "And then your eyes nearly fell out of your face at the mention of food."  He clapped Guy on the back.  "You don't say much, but you sure are amusing."

"Thanks," Guy said sarcastically, pushing the arm off.  "So what was that about lunch?"

"Okay, so it's not that edible anymore, but it'll last us till we can scrounge around for something in Caelin."  Matthew threw one of the pieces of bread at Guy, who yelped when it hit him square on the nose.  The other went into more spasms of silent laughter, flopping unceremoniously to the ground.

Guy, still rubbing his nose gingerly, mumbled, "Stale bread is all you have?"

Matthew nodded, grin still splitting his face.  "You'll have to gnaw it," he said cheerily.

"Wonderful."  Guy flopped into the grass next to Matthew.

"So," said Matthew, after several moments of silence, "How did a young Sacaean wind up in a Lycian forest?"

"Long story."  Guy sighed.  "Well...I ran away."

Matthew raised an eyebrow.  "The usual?  Parents beat you?  Rest of the tribe slaughtered?  Revenge on a mysterious someone?  Being pursued by bandits?"

"Well, er...no."  That earned him another raised eyebrow.  "If you want the truth...I was bored."

There was silence for several moments.

Matthew blinked several times.  "Is it just me, or did you say you ran away because you were _bored_?"

"It's not just you.  I _was_ bored.  I was a stupid kid who wanted adventure."

"You're an odd one.  For a Sacaean, that is."

"Yeah."

"So?" Matthew prodded.  "I still don't think you could've gotten here in ten days."

Guy shrugged, absentmindedly finger-combing his hair with his free hand.  "I was employed by a merchant to protect his caravan."  His eyes gravitated towards the ground.  "But it..."

"Didn't turn out well?" Matthew finished softly.

Guy shook his head.  "Bandits."  He finished off his hunk of no-longer-quite-bread and swallowed hard.  "I...felt so...so...helpless.  The merchant...they..."  He trailed off and laid a hand on the hilt of his sword.  "I couldn't save anyone but _myself_.  It made me realize...I really don't know anything about the world." 

"It was the first time you'd ever seen other humans killed," Matthew guessed.  "But things happen.  If you want to protect others in the future, the only thing you need do is become _stronger_."

"But...I wasn't.  I wasn't strong enough."  The Sacaean slammed a fist into the ground and whispered, "I was so _disgusted_ with myself."

Matthew draped an arm around his shoulders.  "Don't get worked up about it."  He added as an afterthought, "Just remember that times are dark and getting darker, so you'll be seeing a _lot_ more dead people."  He licked a few crumbs from his fingers as Guy stared at him.  "You know, in a few years things will start heating up, and you'll have to kill or be killed.  Be ready then."

Guy closed his dark eyes and nodded resolutely.  "I'll train.  I'll become the greatest master of the sword Sacae _or_ Lycia have ever seen!"

"By then," Matthew said darkly, "you'll have to be the greatest swordsman the entire _world_ has to offer."

* * [End] * * 


	4. Caelin! And lunch!

**~ : : The Price of Venison : : ~**

...must finish fic...must finish fic...must finish fic...

* * * * *

"There it is," Matthew said proudly.  "Caelin, the...er..._great_ city, abode of Lord Hausen and the Lady Lyndis."

"Does it have food?" mumbled Guy, who had been able to think of naught else since their impromptu lunch in the middle of the vast plains.

"Of course!" said Matthew brightly.  "If you know where to look, that is.  I have a couple of...friends...who might take us in for the night."

"Good," croaked the Sacaean, pushing his green hair out of his eyes.  "How long?"

Matthew gave Guy a gentle shove.  "Soon if you hurry."  Guy began walking again.  Matthew snorted.  "Anything for food, huh?"

"Well, I _really_ don't want to wander Lycian forests for the rest of my life."

"I knew that."

* * * * *

They were let into the city by a handsome knight in green armor who greeted Matthew cheerily.  The knight would've detained him for what would have been a long chat, but Matthew only nodded cordially and indicated that he had pressing business elsewhere.

The many stone buildings of Caelin were so very different from the collection of gers Guy had known as home for most of his life, and while Bulgar itself had stone buildings, it had none like these.  Hulking, blocking out most of the sunlight, they pressed in around them, as did the countless people.  Pushing, shoving, talking, children crying.

He couldn't remember the next half an hour or so very clearly - just stumbling along, trying to take in everything at once while also keeping Matthew's head in sight.  Getting lost here would be a nightmare.

The next he knew, Matthew was pulling him beneath a stone archway and into the courtyard of a large stone structure - undoubtedly the home of the marquess his companion had mentioned earlier.  Except...that didn't really fit now, did it?

 "You didn't say that your 'couple of friends' were nobles!" he accused.  "A-and..." he trailed off again, then narrowed his eyes.  "I th-thought Lycians hated people of the eastern lands."

"Lady Lyndis isn't _that_ horrible," Matthew said, in false shock.  "Kind to a fault, and she's half Sacaean, just so you know."

"S-she's _what_?"  Guy stopped dead in his tracks.

"What, that doesn't make you feel more at home?"

"It only makes me f-feel more _nervous_."

"It's not like you have to talk to her or anything.  You're just here so you can find a job somewhere, preferably as a hired sword, and thus get to wherever you want to go.  Pherae, wasn't it?"

Guy blinked.  "I-I am?"

"Yup.  But you're sticking with me while you're still here, because otherwise you'd get lost or someone would start up that 'Hey!  There's one of those barbaric Sacaeans!  Let's burn them!' thing again."  Matthew paused thoughtfully.  "I saw that happen once.  There was this...friend...of Lady Lyndis's, one of those nomad chaps.  They didn't catch him, though."

"One of the p-plainsfolk?  Wandering Lycia?"

"Yeah.  I think he said he was from the Kutowhatsit..."

"Th-the Kutolah?"

"Mm, that was it."

Guy fell silent.  This was too much to take in all at once...another of the Kutolah in Lycia?  Maybe he was - 

"Come on.  I'll just show you to the room I usually stay in."  Matthew yanked him by the arm through the courtyard and toward a smaller side entrance Guy hadn't noticed when they first entered.  "I'll make sure someone brings you some _real_ food.  And, well..."  He grinned.  "Tomorrow you'll be on your way."

Guy nodded shakily and let himself be steered along.

* * * * *

Caelin's food, though not anything fancy, was very pleasing to a starving teenager.  He ate slower than he did usually, taking his time and relishing every bite.  If Matthew _did_ manage to find him a job, then he'd never go hungry again, and he'd improve his swordwork, and he'd become the _best_ in the land...

Matthew found him curled up in a padded chair, crumbs dusting the front of his tunic.  He only laughed quietly to himself and draped an extra blanket over the young swordsman, then claimed the bed for himself.

"I've found a merchant who'll take an extra guard," he informed his sleeping companion.  "He's stopping in Santaruz, and you'll be able to pay your way to Pherae from there."  He grinned sleepily.  "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again in a few months."

* * [End] * * 


	5. Fort! Breakfast! End!

**~ : : The Price of Venison : : ~**

It's here!!  Finally!!!  The _last_ chapter!!!  *punches air*  This will be the first time ever I have actually _finished_ a story longer than two chapters!

*rejoices*

^^;;;  Reviewers, a big hug for the huge boost to my ego your last reviews gave me.  Now I have to go re-read that review I got for _Insurrection_ to deflate it again...  And please forgive my inherent inability to remember even a vague scrap of the conversation Guy has with a random bandit in that random fortress in the stage where you get him.  ^^

* * * * *

"Hey!  Green-hair!  The new dog!  Get yer worthless arse over here _now_!"

Guy nearly fell out of his bunk when Gorm's voice - coming from somewhere outside - sliced away the comfort of sleep, then realized he couldn't have, already being on the floor in a tangle of sheets.  Must've had an odd dream or two last night...

As the leader of the fort full of mercenaries reiterated his orders - making it more colorful each time - Guy scrambled to his feet, pulled his Sacaen-spun tunic on over his shirt and pants, and sat back down on the edge of his bunk.  Mind still clouded from the abrupt awakening, he set about re-braiding his hair.

Pointedly ignoring his now-screaming boss, he grabbed his new Killing Edge from where it was hanging on a rack with countless other weapons - all owned by the other mercenaries.  He'd bought it two weeks ago from the armorer in Santaruz - when he first saw it, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of the keen, well-tempered blade.  He'd saved his pay for an entire month until he was able to afford it - and he hadn't used it at all.  He wanted to wait until he was worthy of such a weapon.

It had been three months now since he'd parted ways with Matthew in Caelin - and since then, he'd practiced day in and day out to improve his swordsmanship.  Guy had intended to go all the way to Pherae with the merchant Matthew had located for him, but said merchant had stopped in a village north of Santaruz and dismissed all of the men he'd hired to protect his cargo.

Guy had had no choice but to take the next available job - this one.  There had been hardly any skirmishes as of yet - only a few groups of rival bandits, and the occasional sneer from one of Santaruz's guardsmen.  Guy was only thankful that he was paid, fed, and sheltered.  When he had another good amount of gold, he'd set out for Pherae, and from there wander the world...become the greatest swordsman anyone had ever seen...  And finally, when he was the unquestioned champion of Lycia, Bern, Ilia, Etruria, and any other country he'd forgotten, he'd finally return home...and he'd show them.  He'd show them that a man of the Kutolah could learn to use a sword just as well as he could a bow.

Well, not that Guy was a man yet or anything...

But someday...  Someday.  He had big dreams, and he had the determination to pursue those dreams.  It'd come through for him in the end.

And, for now...practice.  Practice, practice, practice.

"DO YA _WANT_ TA BE LAID OFF!?!" bellowed Gorm, still somewhere outside.

"Coming, coming," he yelled back.  "I just got this job.  I don't want to lose it yet."  When he was finally ready, and the Killing Edge was tucked carefully into his belt, he left the room full of cots and sleeping pallets, only taking the time to snag a stale meat pie from the mess hall on his way out.

"Took ya damn long enough," Gorm growled as Guy entered the courtyard - now a tad apprehensive, though he still managed to inhale his breakfast in record time.  "We finally have some _real_ victims," the mercenary informed him with a leer.  "Take a look from the top o' the wall.  Ah've gotta go get the rest o' the boys up and ready.  Yell if they get too close."

Guy nodded as Gorm disappeared back into the fort - he was often given a kind of unofficial sentry duty when the weather was cold and Gorm wanted breakfast.

He climbed the narrow stone steps to the top of the fort, leaning over the wall.  He scanned the horizon, trying to figure out where these new enemies were and how many were coming.  Maybe Gorm was exaggerating.  He did that a lot, come to think of it.

There.  To the north, just outside the village, there were people.  People _fighting_.  He recognized some of the other bandits that roamed Santaruz amid the horde of strangers.  All the bandits in this region were a rather tough bunch, but they were...getting _beaten_?  Guy rubbed his eyes.  Yes - the newcomers were cutting them down effortlessly.  If he squinted, he could see the gleam of sun on armor and shields and weapons...

They were heading south, approaching along the road that led directly to the fort, with a man in a long red cloak near the front with two or three mounted warriors.  They were moving quickly as if they _intended_ to reach the fort and fight its inhabitants.

Too close.  Guy hastily abandoned his perch on the wall and ran pell-mell down the stairs - Gorm would skin him alive if his forces were caught unprepared.

As he burst into the courtyard, he yelled, "They're here!  They're almost here!"

Gorm looked up from buckling on his sowrd, a grin showing off his rather large front teeth.  "All right, boys," he said loudly, making sure the others in the courtyard could hear him over their own talk.  "This is what we've been waiting two months fer!"  Cheers from the bandits.  "But remember - corpses don't get paid, so ya'd better do yer best!"

The small group flooded out of the fort, Gorm at the head.  Guy brought up the rear, but moved quickly and followed the others.  He wasn't nervous, though it seemed like he should've been.  He was confident in the skills he'd gained; he _knew_ that today wasn't the day he was destined to die.  Yet...as he crossed the western bridge, he couldn't stop thinking...

The man in the red cloak looked oddly familiar.

* * [_The_ End!] * * 


End file.
